Chapter 154: Next mission

Damon broke the seal on the envelope with a single, elegant, precise movement, as if he were opening not a letter, but an invitation to another war.

Aria and Ester held their breath.

It was always like this when the name Elizabeth appeared.

The room changed.

The air grew thicker.

The lightness—the warmth, the kisses, the jealousy—all vanished, replaced by a cold, calculated tension.

Damon unfolded the paper and read silently.

His eyes moved quickly line by line, his jaw tightening with each sentence. No surprise… but definitely absolute attention.

When he finished, he let out a simple:

“Hmm.”

Ester almost exploded.

“Hmm?! Is that all you have to say?! Damon, the letter could be about a dangerous mission, or about—”

Aria stamped her foot impatiently.

“Read it aloud. Or are we going to have to guess?”

Damon slowly raised his gaze, first to Aria, then to Ester… and then back to the paper.

He wasn’t in a hurry.

He never was.

And that made them both even more tense.

Finally, he began to read:

“’Damon. The opportunity has arrived.’” His voice was calm, but laden with dangerous subtext. “’In three days, there will be an event at Arven Manor, celebrating the new class of knights graduating from the Academy.’”

Ester’s eyes widened.

“Arven Manor… the Duke will be there.”

Aria bit her lip.

“This is bad.”

“For them,” Damon corrected, without taking his eyes off the letter.

He continued:

“’Since you’re already infiltrated in the Academy, you won’t raise suspicions when summoned along with the other guardian students. Enter through this loophole.’”

Aria stepped forward.

“She really planned everything, didn’t she?”

“Elizabeth always plans,” Damon replied.

And he resumed reading:

“’Your objective is simple: enter the Duke’s private vault. The item to be obtained: a black letter, sealed with a red wax seal.’”

Ester touched her temple.

“A letter… black?”

“Sealed with red…” Aria murmured. “Damon… this doesn’t seem simple.”

He didn’t disagree.

He just continued:

“’Don’t open it. Don’t read it. Don’t break the seal. Just bring it.’”

Silence.

Aria crossed her arms, annoyed.

“Elizabeth never explains anything, does she?” “She explains what’s necessary.”

And she returned to the last passages:

“’Security will be reinforced. The Duke never leaves the vault unprotected, and during the event, there will be eyes everywhere. Therefore, it’s the perfect moment. No one expects a trainee to go so deep.’”

Ester shook her head, incredulous.

“This… is madness.”

Aria narrowed her eyes, looking at Damon.

“But it seems exactly the kind of madness you’ll accept.”

He smiled slightly.

He didn’t confirm.

He didn’t deny.

He simply folded the letter and put it in his inside pocket.

Aria approached him, her posture firm.

“Damon… what’s the plan?”

He walked past the two of them and went to the window, observing the crescent moon.

“I’m still creating one.”

Ester huffed, hands on her hips.

“Why are you never worried?! It’s a robbery at the mansion of A DUKE. A DUKE, Damon!”

He turned his face away, a calm, almost amused expression.

“Ester… I’ve been in there, you know? Twice, actually. The security there is a joke.”

Silence.

Aria and Ester stood motionless, as if he had just said the ground was made of clouds.

Aria blinked twice.

“Twice…?” Her voice came out thin. “Damon… are you talking about Arven Manor? The same one you said is the most heavily guarded place in the territory?!”

Damon shrugged.

“I sneak in through Morgana’s bedroom window all the time. It’s not difficult.”

Ester opened her mouth, lost.

“You… break into a Duke’s mansion like it’s… the academy’s garden?”

“The academy’s garden has more guards.”

Aria slapped her forehead. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”

Damon just smiled. A calm, dangerous smile, natural for someone who treated break-ins as routine.

“Elizabeth’s letter only confirmed the obvious,” he said. “They’ll be distracted. Parties always create openings. People coming in, people going out… and I’m just another student. Nobody looks at students.”

Ester took a deep breath.

“Damon… you assumed you could get in alone? Elizabeth didn’t send you backup, didn’t send a team, didn’t send extra instructions! You’re going to enter a Duke’s vault like you’re going to get bread?!”

“Depends on the bread,” he murmured.

Aria was already at her limit. She grabbed his collar.

“Damon,” she said firmly. “We are your wives, right?”

He tilted his head, curious.

“Yes.”

“Then we have the right to know exactly what you’re going to do.”

“And to be with you,” Esther finished, more courageously than she had expected.

The thought made Damon laugh inwardly.

He watched the two of them—Aria tense, Esther worried—analyzing, processing… deciding.

And then he said:

“You’re not going.”

Aria’s eyes widened.

“WHAT?!”

Ester exploded:

“Damon, don’t come at me with that ’I work better alone’ bullshit! That’s not how a marriage works!”

He raised a hand, asking for silence—not arrogantly, but calmly, as if he truly didn’t want to argue.

“I’m not saying this because you’re weak. Quite the opposite, you’re much stronger than me, and that’s the problem. Anyone would notice you.”

Ester blushed.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or a criticism?!”

“Fact,” he corrected.

Aria let go of him, too irritated to find an immediate answer.

“Damon… this is serious. What if you get caught? What if it goes wrong? What if—”

“Nothing will go wrong,” he said as if affirming his own hair color. “I already know the routes, the shifts, the weaknesses. I just need to adapt to the event.” Ester ran a hand over her face, desperate:

“You talk like it’s just ’adjusting the course.’ Damon… he’s a Duke.”

“I know,” he replied with that small, cutting smile. “That’s why it’ll be fun.”

Aria snorted loudly.

“You’re going to kill us with anxiety.”

“No,” Damon corrected, serious now. “I’ll bring the letter. And then… we’ll deal with what comes next.”

Silence fell.

It wasn’t fear.

It was anticipation.

He took two steps, touched Aria’s chin, then Ester’s, with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the tactical coldness of seconds before.

“Trust me.”

Aria sighed, defeated.

“I trust you. But I hate this.”

Ester crossed her arms.

“I trust you too. But if you die, I’ll kill you.” He laughed.

“I’ll remember that.”

Then he turned away, already heading towards the door, clearly determined to begin preparations.

But before leaving, he only turned his head—that calm, calculated look, but with a spark of provocation that only appeared near them.

“Ah. And just to be clear…”

The two stared at him, tense.

Damon smiled slightly.

“The security at Arven Manor is a joke. But the manor… there’s a part that isn’t. That girl is smarter than she lets on.”

Aria frowned.

“Morgana?”

Damon answered with a calmness that only left more questions in the air:

“She always notices more than she should.”

And he left.

…

The sun had barely crossed the horizon when the training field was already teeming with activity. The air carried that familiar smell of freshly cut grass, dust, and cold sweat—typical of mornings at the Academy.

The students formed neat rows as the instructors walked among them, adjusting postures, correcting grips, shouting orders. It was just another ordinary day… until it wasn’t anymore.

Instructor Helvar—a man as large as a wall, with a thunderous voice—climbed onto the wooden platform in the center of the field and struck his staff on the ground, silencing everyone.

“ATTENTION!” echoed throughout the space, forcing each student to straighten their posture. “Today we have an official announcement from Duchess-Regent Arven, on behalf of the Duke.”

Murmurs arose immediately.

Damon, standing in the middle row, didn’t take his eyes off the instructor. He didn’t even blink. He just listened—attentive, patient, as if he had been expecting it.

Helvar opened a sealed scroll and read:

“’In two days, the Arven Knights’ Formation Ceremony will take place. The selected Academy students will be summoned to provide assistance, ensuring order and support during the event.’”

Other students reacted with excitement.

“Finally, a chance to enter the Arven mansion!”

“Will we see the Duke?”

“My family will burst with pride if I’m chosen…”

Damon remained silent.

Helvar continued:

“The list of those summoned is here.” He raised the scroll. “And it will be announced now.”

Damon didn’t react at first—but, as the murmurs of excitement around him grew, as the students began to vibrate with the opportunity to set foot in the Arven mansion…

…a small smile crossed his lips.

Not wide.

Not obvious.

Just that slight arch that betrayed silent satisfaction.

The kind of smile that nobody notices—

-except those who really pay attention to it.

He tilted his head to the side, as if listening to an inside joke.

“Finally,” he murmured, too low for anyone but himself to hear.

The opening was in.

The invitation was made.

Elizabeth wastes no time.

While the rest of the group was still reacting to the announcement, Damon adjusted the bandages on his wrists, relaxed… almost lazy in his posture, but his eyes sharp as a newly sharpened blade.

It was then that he noticed a movement ahead.

Morgana.

She was walking down the row, naturally making way for everyone who didn’t dare stand in the way of the Arven heiress in that morning mood.

Her hair tied in a high ponytail, her posture rigid, her expression closed.

She didn’t look to the sides.

Or at anyone.

She walked straight past—a human arrow—without allowing herself the luxury of noticing who was watching her pass.

When she passed Damon…

He followed her with his gaze.

Without turning his face completely.

Without calling her.

Without demanding attention.

He simply followed her movement with those tranquil eyes that saw more than they should.

And, at the exact moment she passed him—an arm’s length, perhaps less—Damon inclined his head and spoke softly, firmly, and perfectly audible to her… and only to her:

“I hope you look beautiful.”

Morgana continued walking.

She didn’t turn.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t slow down for a second.

But Damon saw—with millimeter clarity—the subtle contraction of her shoulder.

Almost imperceptible.

Almost a stumble in his own control.

He smiled slightly.

And he finished, even more quietly, in that tone he knew would reach her simply because of their proximity:

“See you at the event.”

Morgana didn’t look back.

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